bring the best music collection on any iPod ever. While this was of course a CV-esque half-lie, I was still designated as the house DJ of the week so here’s a small playlist to share the buy levitra fun. I hope you like it.

Over the course of my five visits to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, I have cultivated a particular theatrical taste. It is not unlike that of a highbrow 6 year old (I am 21). So, here are some of the key ingredients I look for in a performance at the Fringe…

1. A good pitch How else do you expect to put bums on seats? Your show has been months, years, in the making, now is your chance to sell it to me! If all you can do is wave a flyer vaguely in my direction, I’m probably not going to come.

2. Tears Both of laughter and of sadness. Yes… I expect to be reduced to both… in the space of an hour. I like a show which propels me between emotional extremes; it’s cathartic.

3. A dash of audience interaction We cringe when a performer approaches us but really we are just being coy; secretly we love the spotlight and can’t wait to tell our friends about ‘that time where I had to propose to an actor on stage while he shoved cheese and onion crisps in my face and everyone threw plastic spoons at us…’ And if we genuinely are shy, it’s fun seeing the guy next to us suffer.

4. Puppets Seriously though, watch me as I become more emotionally invested in a little wooden figurine than real-life human beings.

5. A few drops of political/social satire A well-written jab at the government never goes amiss, especially when it is related to arts funding (um, hello, government, did you miss the major artistic phenomenon happening around us right now and its huge economic prosperity?)

7. Physical Theatre. Why not perform some physical theatre in said cool venue? Ok so you’ve got no budget for an exciting set, don’t whine about it, get creative and use your bodies to make it instead.

8. A lot of polish Not for your shoes, for your acting. Whether you’ve trained at Lecoq or not, you ought to adopt a professional approach to rehearsing and performing your show. Slick performances make for impressive theatre. Don’t be lazy.

9. Multimedia/technology Just to mix things up a bit. One show this year had a robot… A real robot! Clearly you need to be keeping up with the times. Live music would also be a sensible ddition.

10. One self-referential joke about acting in a production at the Fringe. Just throw one in somewhere. http://blog.edfringereview.com/2015/08/25/the-recipe-for-an-ideal-fringe-show-stephanie-young/ http://blog.edfringereview.com/2015/08/25/the-recipe-for-an-ideal-fringe-show-stephanie-young/ http://blog.edfringereview.com/2015/08/25/the-recipe-for-an-ideal-fringe-show-stephanie-young/ http://blog.edfringereview.com/2015/08/25/the-recipe-for-an-ideal-fringe-show-stephanie-young/ http://blog.edfringereview.com/2015/08/25/the-recipe-for-an-ideal-fringe-show-stephanie-young/ We love it when things get a bit ‘meta’.

Include a few surprise ingredients along the way and you have all you need to make my ideal Fringe show.

If you’re feeling particularly whimsical try experimenting with humour. As one Week 1 EFR reviewer demonstrated, the corny classics like “Excuse me sir, I think you dropped this…” have a surprisingly high strike rate.

When arriving at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, it s important for the non-engendered, post-racial, pre-spiritual, post-capitalist, Green, demi-socialist, post-Tory liberal Arts pundit to know how to present themself (we use the sexless singular reflexive pronoun at the Fringe). Herewith a comprehensive guide on how to impress your fellow vegans as you stride with purpose from theatre to theatre, commenting eloquently on theatrical criteria and laying down your spirit in the name of Art.

1. With every show you see, construct a detailed narrative criticism to ‘outcritique’ your fellow punters with afterwards. Deliver it as if you are thinking on the spot as you walk out the theatre.

6. See the Cambridge Footlights, and afterwards say they were better in your day.

7. Whenever you are about to say something, consider whether it is either erudite theatre critique or a searing condemnation of capitalism. If it is neither, don’t say it.

8. See as many Free Fringe shows as you can, claiming that you don’t believe in exchanging money for Art.

9. Get your friends as drunk as possible before a show. That way they will have no idea what the play is about, and you will be able to say whatever you want whilst having them rely on your critical insights even more than if they had been sober.

10. Practise your thespian voice before arriving. People on the street will mistake you for an actor, and you can mutter wistfully that RADA did nothing for you.

11. Memorise all the venues beforehand, and, if possible, a history of their artistic buy cialis 10mg directors.

12. Have a copy of The Stage magazine on you at all times. You don’t want to look like a maverick.

13. Wear clothes that take the recognisable, such as a tweed suit, and twist it, for example by rolling the trousers above your knees and painting one sleeve red. You want to look like a maverick.

14. Find the most bohemian theatre company you can, and offer to help them flyer on the Royal Mile. Say you are doing it in the name of Art.

15. Make sure there is at least one show you walk out of, sigh deeply and whisper: ‘That, is why I love theatre.’

With these instructions in hand, today’s modern liberal intellectual vegan supranational cosmopolitan-esque theatre-goer can attend the Edinburgh Festival Fringe safe in the knowledge that their intellectual integrity will survive intact. And remember, if in doubt, quote Laurence Olivier.

There are two types of people in life: those who hand out leaflets for Ed Fringe Review and those who don’t. As a member of the former group you are not only expected to write about strangers, sometimes in a zealous and sycophantic manner, you must also be able to accost strangers, almost always in a zealous and sycophantic manner. This is a feat which requires skill, precision, and devilish good looks (watch and learn, guys, watch and learn).

You’d have thought that offering someone a leaflet and dispensing one if the answer’s ‘yes’ would be simple enough. You’d be wrong. This is a multi-faceted transaction governed by iron laws and conventions.

1. The first thing is knowing who to target. If you see a huge, bald bloke with teardrop tattoos and a Millwall shirt – definitely offer him a flyer. Who are you to discern whether someone harbours a deep love of drama and criticism based on their outward appearance? In fact, offer flyers to everyone who passes by, regardless of race, creed, or hairdo.

2. Make sure your one-liner game is strong. If you want people to like you, just make them laugh. Come at each punter with a real howler of a joke and they’ll feel obliged to take whatever tat you’re flogging, either from bemusement or pity. My personal favourite is ‘excuse me, I think you’ve dropped this, here, I’ve picked it up for you’: an opener bound to confuse panglossian Americans and irritate dour Scots. Win-win.

3. Don’t fumble with the flyer. So you’ve found someone who isn’t in such a rush that they’ll humour you by taking one of your leaflets. Great. Now just hand it over without making intense eye-contact or drenching them with your sweaty palms. Done.

Admittedly, this is all a bit niche. But remember there’s a lot more at stake here than just a grubby leaflet. In flyering for EFR you are promoting an organisation dedicated to helping punters enjoy the best Fringe experience possible, free from hammy acting and wooden dialogue. And if that all sounds a bit heavy, just think this is one of the few socially-acceptable situations in which you can approach a complete stranger and offer them something without ending up on some ominous list. Make the most of it.

BED, a story about the sexual awakening of a young gay man, is an original piece of theatre written and performed by a group of from London’s School of Economics. Its debut was on 7th August and I was lucky enough to be amongst the first Fringe audience that was treated to this thought provoking performance. I have since had the opportunity to have a chat with the writer James Dunn, director Alice Harrison and three of the four cast members, Nikhil Parmar (playing Eddie), Celine Buckens (Imogen), and Joe Shalom (Robin), allowing me some insight into their writing and directing strategies, cast dynamics and Fringe experience.

I met the cast in the Brass Monkey whilst they were midway through discussing their post show notes. So, beers to hand, it was my turn to speak.

Congratulations on bringing BED to the fringe, I saw it recently and thought that the script was really impressive and the acting and characterisation was very moving. I think that BED tackled issues of sexuality, relationships and feminism very effectively. You addressed them lucidly but subtly in comparison to a lot of shows I have seen. Was it a deliberate decision to make these poignant themes understated?

Dunn: “Yeh, I mean those aspects kind of appeared but themselves, they were never intentionally written in. I tried to avoid forcing those delicate themes down the audience’s throat”.

Harrison: “We were trying to look at how young people communicate and discuss these ideas, rather than necessarily trying to put a message across”.

Buckens: “The fact that we talk about gay guys isn’t a focus”.

Parmer: “Eddie’s lack of consideration about feminism and misogyny stems from a lack of understanding and is about social immaturity compared with the Robin’s social intellectual superiority”.

Shalom: “It’s nice that we don’t resolve it, that there is no right or wrong answer. We’re simply presenting levitra effetti collaterali different views”.

Buckens:“Eddie is not vilified for his views”.

Harrison: “Since the performance of BED at the Fuel Theatre Festival in March, the themes have became subtler because we felt that the lack of resolution is important. We’re revealing a mere cross section or window into four characters lives rather than defining a period with a moral message”.

What did you find was the hardest thing about taking this show to the Fringe and how have you found the experience so far?

Parmer: “LSE funded us completely and the important thing now is for us to give something back to our university. We put on a preview and we want to be able to say we’re actually here showcasing LSE’s talent. George Bernard Shaw was one of the founders of LSE; he had a shed built in his garden on a pivot so it would rotate towards the sun when he was writing, hence the name of our theatre company (The Revolving Shed). Like Bernard Shaw’s work we try to have a philosophical story line through our writing. We always put original plays on, we never bring something someone else has done”.

What’s it like performing knowing that you are being reviewed when you have obviously put a lot of work into the show. Do you guys read reviews written about you and how do you deal with criticism and compliments?

Dunn: “I thrive off criticism as opposed to salutary well dones, I’d rather someone told me the things that they thought were sh*t”.

Shalom: “This is quite a personal question, it would probably differ for all of us. I prefer to perform in front of a reviewer than in front of a normal audience. I get a bigger buzz knowing that

I’m being watched and marked. The only danger of knowing that you’re being reviewed is that people can sometimes overdo the acting and show off too much. Emotionally, I get hyped when a reviewer comes but then I have to hold myself back to ensure my performance is preis viagra at still naturalistic”.

Parmar: “With reviewers I kind of want to just block it out”.

Buckens: “I didn’t even know the reviewer was in today and I don’t think that would have changed my performance too much. It’s more about the whole audience. Because it’s such an intimate play that you interact with them a lot”.

Parmar: “Acting in front of one person is the same as acting in front of 200 people, they’ve still paid for their ticket”.

Buckens: “But I mean we have been really lucky; 16 is the smallest audience so far, but most days we average well generic cialis online with over 25”.

Parmar. “16 is slightly south of what we want, but at least it’s north of 0”.

me as Robin first, didn’t you? But then we swapped it round mainly because of my levitra udaipur ego. I asked James: ‘Can you give me a read as Eddie?’”.

Dunn: “We got the actors we wanted without really thinking about their role in the play and that was a mistake. So after we did performed the piece in March, I wrote knowing Nikhil would be Eddie and Celine would be Imogen, meaning I I could write for their strengths”.

What has your experience of the Royal Mile been so like far – what kind of things do you find work best when trying to promote BED?

Buckens: “Saying ‘Would you like to go to bed with me?’ usually works! The reactions are hilarious! But, aside from buy cialis that, we are really keen not to frame this as a gay piece. Speaking quickly and clearly within the 10 second window with a passer by is crucial”.

Harrison then referred to the eye-catching flyer (loud green and blue shapes acting as bed covers with a strikingly beautiful red breasted robin atop them). The cast and crew have seen this as a key element in grabbing peoples attention. The artwork is an original piece by LSE student, Rebecca Wembury.

And I would not be an EdFringe Reviewer through and through if I failed to finished with this: if you could suggest one show really worth seeing at the Fringe this year (besides your own!) what would it be?